The Devil and Ms Swan
by itsjustme1217
Summary: Bella has no idea what she's doing with the beautiful and younger manager at her office. Convinced he's the devil, can Bella follow her heart instead of her head. Does she have a choice.


Day 1

Did you know that the devil has green eyes? Huge, sexy-as-fuck, bedroom eyes that

should be illegal and, very well may be in some states.

I've looked into them...and lost myself.

Day 12

He's manager of the marketing office I started at nearly two weeks ago. I knew the first moment I saw him, he was trouble. I tried so hard to stay away from him, but he's always there, watching and waiting, like a roaring lion who walks about seeking whom he may devour*.

Day 34

I begin dreaming of him, day and night, obsession seeping into my veins, trickling through my system. There's just something about him; something so alluring, I find myself unable to resist.

Maybe I could avoid him.

Doubtful, but we all live with our illusions.

In the end, we all make excuses for the devil.

Day 53

Did you know that the first time we talked it wasn't even at work? Ironically enough, it was at a funeral. A mutual co-worker had a death in the family and a bunch of us from the office went to offer moral support.

After burying my parents a few years ago, I don't do well at funerals. I barely make it through paying my respects when the walls began to feel like they were closing in around me. Rushing outside the church for fresh air, I'm followed by a silver tongued demon who holds me while I cry and, smiles like an angel when he promises everything will be all right.

Even then, as I looked into his eyes under the moonlight, I knew, nothing would ever be all right again.

Day 78

Since then, we've grown closer, getting to know one another by text, phone calls, and lunch dates we spend talking and laughing, instead of eating. Through those texts I've also found him to be funny, and intelligent. He's always pushing me to try new things, so sure I can succeed. I think he believes that his pep talks are instrumental to my recent accomplishments but, between us girls, it's just fear of disappointing him.

Sounds crazy right?

I tried to tell you.

I am not a well woman.

You just don't understand, so before you commit me, picture it. Twenty-six and oh so beautiful. Stunning really. Evil bastard. Tall with a slim waist and broad shoulders. Dark hair with the tiniest bit of salt sprinkled through, an angled jaw, long eyelashes, and full red lips. Did I mention those lovely green eyes?

However, it's not enough for the devil to just look good. Hell no, the boy has got game too, and tons of charm. He texts me, "good morning," and then the texts grow increasingly more teasing as the day goes on. I'm not even ashamed to admit that most days we are about three texts away from me screaming his name when he stops.

I'm going to need therapy.

He asks for a hug every morning and evening. Ladies, let me tell you, his chest is like a brick wall. I bet you could bounce quarters on it. In fact, that is number thirty-three on the list of things I want to do to him.

He swears the hugs make him feel better, but being that close to him, him holding me so tightly, makes me kind of…well, stupid. My mind goes completely blank and everything in the world falls away, but him and, the way he makes me feel. Then, the demon has the audacity to whisper in my ear, "breathe" before smirking and walking away.

Day 244

I have all this resolve when I'm at home alone at night. I vow I won't go near him at work. I promise I won't let him get to me, that I can just be his friend. I swear I won't be hurt when he talks about his ex. But when he's in front of me, all I can think is his name. Every blood cell in my body screams it. Every brain cell chanting. Every heartbeat begging. I am powerless to say anything but yes to him. Call it enchantment, addiction, disease, it all amounts to the same: he's got me wrapped around his finger and there's nowhere I'd rather be.

As if just being himself isn't enough, he has weapons that cause my destruction. Number one being that damn plaid shirt. Short-sleeved, so it shows off his arms-and the "outcast" tattoo written down his forearm- tightly, hugging his impressive bicep. I hate that shirt, I love it but, I hate it.

Number two would be how good he smells. Every time I'm close to him, the most sensual scent floods my senses and I'm left panting like a bitch in heat.

Did you know that he is slowly driving me completely bat shit crazy?

Ugh!

Number three would be the slow and easy way he does everything, as if even the

smallest move is thoroughly calculated. Do we really need to talk about the good swagger he

gives?

He has a sharp eye too, nothing gets past him. I guess that would be number four. And the fucker is relentless when he's made up his mind about something. He probably gives that much attention to detail in the bedroom too, don't you think?

I'm going to hell aren't I?

Day 405

Why does he have to sound so sinisterly sexy when he speaks? Why the hell does he have to say such stupid shit? I never know what he's thinking but the bastard reads me like a book and uses the info to fuck with my head. Sometimes he flirts with me and he's so smooth, other times he talks to me about her. I hate him for this push/pull relationship we have begun. More, I hate myself for enjoying it.

So damn confusing!

I can't read him though. I don't know what he wants from me. Does he want to be my friend? Is

he trying in some weird way to hook up with me? What the hell is going on? He sends so many

mixed signals it's too hard to tell. The whole sordid mess makes my head, and other body parts,

ache in places I never knew existed.

It's been so damn long since anyone flirted with me, it took me a while to realize that is exactly

what he is doing-I think, the devil is seducing me…or maybe not. Damnit! Why does he have to be so frustrating? He's had me tied in knots for months. I can't take much more, I sincerely can't. At some point I am going to go stark raving mad, push him against a wall, and attack.

I have to believe we are just being friends here, I mean why would he want me? Recently

divorced after fifteen years, I am forty pounds heavier, two kids richer, and ten years older than

the devil.

This is so unlike me. I don't understand it. I have always been the good girl, the loyal

one, the responsible one. But one look into those big eyes and he's changed something fundamental in my DNA and now home is no longer a place, it's a person.

He is the serpent and I am Eve. Somebody pass me the fucking apple

Day 539

I have no business even co-existing in the same world as this man, let alone fantasizing about him all day and night but he's making me crazy. Did I mention that? The devil is slowly driving me insane.

Of course, he wants my soul and, no doubt, he will have it. There is no sense in even

trying to fight it. Right now he's holding me at arms length, stringing me along, and playing mind

games with me. Hell, I can't resist him now, if the times comes when he decides to turn on

the charm, heaven help me.

As it is, I might as well be wearing a shirt that says, "Soul For Sale".

How can I be blamed though, when he's around, he turns my body into a tuning fork. I can tell the second he steps into the building, the hair on the back of my neck stands up and goosebumps work their way up my spine, calling his name. I have to wonder, does he feel it too?

Day 578

I try my best to hide his effect on me but who am I kidding? My heart is beating so fast that I bet

he can hear it and I'm so damn wet, I know he can smell it.

I fear I am not doing a very good job of hiding my feelings for him in front of others, either. I have good intentions but the world narrows to just me and him when I'm looking into those eyes. I forget anyone else is around. I try so hard to be cool but fail miserably every time. Even if I could hide all the rest. I can't help the blush that creeps from my hairline down my chest.

Shit! This is not my fault, really it's not. It's not my fault that I haven't had sex in nearly a year and he can probably feel the desperation radiating off of me. Certainly it's not my fault that he's the fucking devil.

Day 603

He's all wrong for me. Fuck, he's not even my type. A mistake. I know it, I just know it. There is no way this can end anything but badly. He'll break me. Isn't that what a demon does? This incubus is absolutely nothing that I need and everything that I want. Everything, but mine.

On the other hand, don't I deserve to do something stupid, just once, in my life? I just want to do this one thing. I'll be so damn good for the whole rest of eternity, I promise, if I can just be really bad for one night…with him.

Oh hell, now I'm bargaining and rationalizing 'do-ing' the devil.

This is bad girls.

The beast is surely not going to help me, he enjoys watching me burn. He'll stand and watch, with a smirk on his perfect face. You'll know it's him because of the trail of broken hearts. Stay back though girls, lest you be caught in his web and burn happily alongside me.

Day 666

He's got me so on edge, constantly thinking about him, my nerves are fried, consumed, the fire already singing through my veins and he's barely touched me. He's controlling me like a puppet master and it's pissing me the fuck off.

Well, today he has pushed me too far. First of all, there is a plaid shirt alert in full effect. Second, he had to have hug. Said it would get his day started off right. All I know is the temperature went up ten degrees and the clock stopped ticking. Or is that just me?

The he pins me with those big green eyes and I am lost. He's talking but all I see is the way his mouth moves. I notice it the moment it happens, the small quirk of his lip, and I know instinctively he's moving in for the kill.

"I want to ask you something," he says, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

This is it people.

Someone call 911.

Dead whore down.

Then he said it. Threw that question out like it was no big deal. Like I haven't been agonizing over the same damn thing for months.

"What do you think of me?"

A simple sentence, but something inside of me snapped and I lost my mind right there in the sales office.

"You want to know what I think of you?" I draw out, growing angrier by the second.

Stand back, months of sexual and mental frustration is about burst forth and will surely kill us all. Like everything to do with this man, I am powerless to stop it and the way I'm feeling right this second, I might just start the apocalypse.

"I'll tell you what I think of you," I seethe. "You, Edward Cullen, are the devil." I yell, pointing up at his towering frame.

"Tempting, dangerous, and so sexy," I tell him honestly, taking my time checking him out from head to toe as I circle my prey, trailing my finger down his chest and up his back.

Planting myself in front of him once again, I forcefully push him back into one of the chairs and step between his legs. Leaning over, I inhale deeply and whisper in his ear.

"You smell like sin, and you make me want to do very, very bad things," I say, punctuating my words with a nip at his throat.

"Easy now," he says calmly. "I promise, when the time comes-so will you."

I stood there like the fool he has turned me into, with my mouth hanging open and my chest heaving, before I find the courage to turn away from him and run as fast as I can back to my office. Slamming the door, and pressing my back against it, I try, in vain, to gain some sort of control over myself.

Can any of you perform an exorcism?

I slide down the wall and land on my ass, with a thump, just as my phone vibrates in my pocket.

Incoming Text from the Devil

Seriously?

I'm going to have an aneurysm.

Someone send oxygen.

"**I wanted to kiss you," **his text reads**.**

Well, I can be brave via text too.

_I wanted you to._

I type it out and press send quickly before I change my mind. Closing my eyes, I lean back, and proceed to bang the back of my head repeatedly against the door, while I wait for his reply.

But the reply never comes.

Instead, the devil himself comes crashing through my office door, shoving me right out of the way.

"Fuck!" I scream as my legs are pushed against the wall.

Then he's slamming the door closed frantically, but stops short when he sees me on the floor. His eyebrow shoots upward and a slow smile spreads across his face, ironically, illuminating him.

"Baby? What are you doing?" he asks, with the curiosity of a small boy. He crosses his arms and leans against the closed door expectantly; waiting to be amused; watching me burn.

"Ummm…hiding," I tell him, with a finality I don't feel.

His eyes narrow menacingly, and he asks, "From what?"

"Myself," I say, in a tiny voice, the word out of my mouth before I even think about it, but it's the truth.

Understanding dawns on his chiseled face, "We all feel that way sometimes," he says in sympathy, without judgment.

He holds his hand out to me, and I take it as if it were a lifeline, and allow him to help me from the floor. In doing so, I find myself pulled right up against his body and, when I look up for his reaction, I see that his facial features have changed to a mischievous smirk.

"Now, about that kiss," he draws sexily.

My pride begs me to not give in so easily, but it's already too late. It feels like running down stairs and knowing you are going to fall before it even happens but, you're already going too fast to stop. Maybe this is fate of the same twisted fashion.

He moves slowly closer to me, those beautiful eyes watching me intently. His lips press gently against mine, once, twice, and his name slips from between my lips a second before being replaced by his tongue. Funny how kissing the devil can make me feel closer to heaven.

His hands drift down, sweeping lightly over the curve of my ass, then tightening to pull me closer against him, and for just a moment it feels as if we are one. Perfect.

Too soon, he's pulling away and mumbling about meeting him in his office after eight when all the other employees are gone for the day. He'll wait for me, he says as he shuts the door behind him, leaving me breathless and more confused than ever.

I can't meet him later, that's crazy! Is he out of his mind? That's risky, and I am not a gambler. But how can I not meet him? If that kiss is any indication, it will definitely be worth the risk. I can meet him, right? Nothing will happen, it will be fine.

Right?

Fuck! Before him, I never would have even considered a scenario like this. I would have laughed if you had told me I would even consider it. None of my friends would believe me capable of such a thing.

I stand in the middle of my office, wringing my hands, when the realization washes over me. I'll go. I'll go because that is exactly what I want to do. I'll risk everything just to sit by his side; wrapped around his finger, cause I need him like air, and he's worth it.

All day long, the weight of the world rests on my shoulders. The pressure of raising three children, working in a field where everyone is disposable and you need to be at the top of your game every day, reaching a point in my life where everything feels like it's changing around me while I stand still, yet try and keep up at the same time.

However when I'm with him, it all stops. Silence reigns, and I feel like I can finally breathe. Anything is worth feeling that peace. Anything. There is no better drug. I'm hooked and, strangely, unashamed.

The decision made I return to work and fail not to watch the clock.

**5:32. Incoming text from the devil. **

_You mean sex? Eww gross! I text back, both joking and stalling._

**5:34. Tell me, he insists.**

5:45. After biting off two fingernails, I gather my courage and answer him honestly.

_I admit I've pictured riding you in your office chair while you wear those fuckhawt sunglasses. Too much?_

**5:57. Incoming text from the devil. Tell me more.**

_6:14. Sex is a little farther down my list of fantasies now._

His answering text is simple but still shows his impatience with this turn of conversation.

**?**

I wait till 6:40 to answer him just because I'm relishing having the upper hand for once. You guys know what I mean. It's a girl thing.

When I get it all typed out and press send, I am a little surprised at myself.

_I want you naked and spread out for me to take my time with; to worship like you deserve. I want to show you how good I could be to you. I want to touch and kiss you all over; use my tongue to trace your body into my memory. I want the chance to know if you taste as good as you look._

He doesn't respond and I spend the next hour and twenty-six minutes worrying I've gone too far.

**8:01. **His text simply says, **I'm here**, as if I have choice over whether I go to him or not. We both know I will. We both know I can't fucking wait.

Excitement builds to bursting fireworks in my stomach as I quickly gather my things, and practically run through the building. Then, finally, I'm standing in front of him, out of breath, and disheveled but unable to stop smiling.

"Hey you," he croons seductively.

"Come here," he requests with his arms spread wide, waiting for me to decide. As always, he waits patiently. However, I do not hesitate for the reason he believes; I do not question him. It's within myself that doubt lies.

Still unsure but overwhelmingly eager, I step into his embrace, his scent and strength surrounding me. He holds me tightly and I close my eyes and exhale, giving in to the spell he weaves; allowing it to envelope me.

There is no better feeling in the world than being in his arms. Imagine, if you will, a library full of shelves and cabinets. The inside of my head is like that, with a tornado blowing through, but in his presence all the books and paper freeze mid-air and, all I see is Edward. He's the only thing that matters and, all the other bullshit falls away.

It's probably some kind of voodoo shit, the devil has many powers, I know, he can't fool me, but he is, indeed, a magic man…

"…and I'm tired of pretending he hasn't already won," I accidentally finish aloud.

Unfazed, he simply tightens his grip and assures me. "We're both going to win, Baby."

His promise sets my body aflame because I believe him; in him, and suddenly I can't wait any longer to have him. My hands fist in his shirt and I look up at him with pleading eyes. He leans toward me and my stomach tightens in anticipation of his taste.

When his lips touch mine, there are no fireworks or fat ladies singing, just a feeling of rightness; a homey sense of comfort. His mouth moves sensually, alternating between tiny pecks and light licks; a master of seduction.

Edward's hands are moving slowly to the buttons of my blouse when I realize. I can't do this. I can't have sex with him. If I do, he will see me naked.

You guys know what I'm talking about.

Insecurity spreads from my brain through my body.

"Stop thinking and move with me, Baby." he whispers, foregoing the blouse buttons and palming my breasts instead causing me to moan embarrassingly loud.

He smiles adorably, obviously pleased. "I love the way your body responds to me," he tells me as his hands drifts down my stomach and around to my ass. Edward squeezes and kneads my flesh as he nips at my throat.

My body relaxes fully into his, so much that if he were to move I would literally fall at his feet.

"Do you feel it, Bella?" he asks as he trails his fingers lightly down the small of my back.

"Do you?" he asks again, tersely, squeezing my backside ruthlessly. I bet it will leaving print marks. Don't you think? Oh please let it leave fingerprint marks cause no one is going to believe this come tomorrow, not even me.

"Yes," I hiss through clenched teeth, both at his words and my own thoughts.

"Good," he says sharply, spinning me around, and leading us toward the exit. "Let's go."

"Where the hell are we going?" I huff, winded, from his kisses and the sudden hurry.

"As much as like the idea of taking you here, in my desk chair, as you described. I'm taking you to my place where I can fulfill your fantasy." His words say that he's giving me what I want but, his voice says he's ordering me to his bidding. Little does he know, there is nothing I'd rather do.

Or maybe he does know.

Should I even care at this point?

Because the ache between my thighs is making it difficult to find a fuck to give.

He pulls me out the front door and into the night air before I can blink. Next thing I know we're beside his car in the parking garage. An empty, quiet parking garage. Intimate and romantic, don't you think?

Never mind, you can't see him.

Anyway, the parking garage and his Camry give me an idea, and I stop walking, causing him to jerk back.

Concern etched on his face he asks, "You okay?"

"What if I have a different fantasy I want fulfilled tonight?" I ask, with a shy smile, my face flaming.

"Your wish is my command," he replies immediately, his face transforming with boyish glee.

"I want to see your tan skin against this white car," I tell him, with a challenge in my voice. After all, it's his turn to suffer a little right? I can't be the only one putting myself out there and taking all the leaps. He's asking for a lot of faith from me tonight. I want to know he's fully aware and willing to take some of the heat himself. It may sound crazy but if he does this, I'll trust him more.

His eyes lock with mine and, without a word, he begins to unbutton his shirt. Inch by inch his creamy skin is exposed to me. He wastes no time ripping his shirt from his arms and then the bulging muscles I've felt so many times are there for me to see.

His mind made up, Edward goes for gold as he kicks off his shoes and unfastens his pants at the same time. Heaven help me, cause the boy is commando. Should I do a happy dance now or later? Maybe both? Oh shit I better wait, he's going to think I'm weird if I start doing the Cabbage Patch while staring at his cock.

His absolutely perfect ten inch shaved cock. It's the prettiest thing I have ever seen.

I can't stop staring at it. I'm never going to want to look at anything else again. Poetry should be written about it. Perhaps it already has been, I should check because I bet it's amazing, but there is no way words could do this justice. I want to super glue myself to it.

Is that possible?

Do you guys have any?

"Are you going to stand there gawking all night?" he asks, interrupting my strange thoughts.

"Maybe," I answer when I finally drag my eyes from his midsection.

"I certainly hope not," he says, with a chuckle.

He's been a good sport. His confidence is appealing and he's proven his trustworthiness. It can't be easy to stand there so vulnerable. I step to him and run my fingers through the light splattering of golden hair on his chest.

"I want you," I tell him; giving him the last piece of my heart he doesn't already own. "I've waited so long."

"No more waiting," he promises as he lowers his lips to mine. Instantly fire sweeps through my body, igniting every nerve and I can't get close enough to him. More than simple desire, I need him. Oh shit! I love him. The realization stuns me momentarily but not much longer because Edward is sucking on my neck and kneading my breast.

How the fuck did he get my clothes off? Oh right. Devil. Voodoo.

He lifts me by the back of the legs and his hardness is right there where I want him most. His skin is warm against mine and he feels so good; so right.

"Please," I beg shamelessly, grinding against him. He leans into the car and after a moment produces a condom. "I'm like a boy scout, I always come prepared," he says grinning.

"Fuck," he groans, leaning back against the door of the car for balance as he glides it on and realigns his himself with my entrance.

"Baby?" he asks, looking into my eyes for confirmation that I'm ready and want this; him. I do. More than anything.

I nod, pressing harder against him to prove it. I place my feet in the open window seal for leverage and I'm ready when he sinks into my wetness. With one fluent move, I am home.

"Tell me how to make you happy and I'll spend my life doing just that," he requests, holding me flush against him and not allowing me to move as he searches my face for the answers to his question.

Laughing, I tell him with sincerity, as I cup his face in my hands. "You make me happy just by existing. Your smile, your voice, your heart they heal me, bring me to life, and make me whole. Being with you is better than any drug anyone ever smoked, snorted, or injected."

"Yes," he grunts, moving inside me finally, obviously pleased by my words.

"Yes," I echo, feeling the flames once again engulf me.

Usually I close my eyes during sex, allowing the sensations to wash over me, but this is different. I keep my eyes open adamantly, afraid to even blink, that I might miss one of his reactions; a tiny smirk of amusement, his head lolling back in ecstasy, the need in his hooded eyes as he watches me too.

I touch and kiss him everywhere I am able to reach with either hands or lips. I feel his strength in every pivot of his hips, every squeeze of my flesh. Every noise from his mouth and twinge from his body is a small victory; my reward, tiny spikes of arousal shooting through my body as his desire fuels my own.

"Jesus," I call out when he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

"Jesus doesn't have anything to do with this right now, Bella," he grounds out, slamming into the same spot repeatedly. I'm not sold on the validity of his statement because (same here) I'm presently experiencing heaven and about to see God.

So I continue, my reverence, kissing his down his shoulder. "Thank you God for this man…"

"You praying now, Baby," Edward chuckles.

Without any more build up or fanfare, I come hard, screaming his name, the word ricocheting across the concrete structure. You guys probably heard right? I should be embarrassed but…damn! I don't even have time to revel in the rapture of my own soul when another wave crashes over me, stronger than the first.

This time he's right there with me. His hands bruising my flesh at the same time that my nails dig into his back. This time it's him yelling out his release as I sink my teeth into his shoulder to stifle my own voice and better hear his pleasure.

We're both panting as he slowly lowers me to my feet. Edward doesn't let me go, as soon as my toes touch the pavement, he's crushing me against him. Not that I'm complaining, mind you.

"Bella, oh Bella, what are you doing to me?" he pleads desperately as he kisses my face.

Me? What the fuck is he talking about?

"I can't figure you out, Bella, you're making me crazy," he confides.

What the hell? Do ya'll hear this shit?

"Please, God, please," he begs, though for what, I'm not entirely sure.

I smile at him teasingly, aiming to lighten the mood. "You praying now baby," I parrot his words from earlier.

"Difficult not to with God's own angel standing before me," his voice still holding too much weight.

Placing my hand over his heart, I tell him sincerely, "You are the closest to heaven that I will ever be."

Edward shakes his head sadly. "Without you, heaven will never let me in."

Does anybody understand? Cause my head is spinning.

"Bella, come home with me tonight. I swear, you won't regret it," he guarantees.

Okay, I guess I can do that. I mean I was going to anyway right? Girls? Oh fuck it! I'm going. We all know I am. I am so going. Are we there yet? Where's my clothes? Maybe I should just leave them here, and he'll forget his too. Shit! He probably has more clothes at his place. Fuck! I'll have to find a way to get rid of them. Suggestions? Scissors? Small fire?

"Bella," Edwards says with amusement, snapping his fingers in front of my face. "Clothes? My place?"

"Oh right!" I exclaim, remembering. "Yes! Of course."

His smile spreads broadly across his beautiful face, and bends to kiss my shoulder, whispering. "Thank you."

Then, he's stepping back, leaving me cold, and holding out my clothes. Well, damn! When did he pick those up?

"Put them on, and get in the car, Bella," he commands with a smirk, as visions of road head dance around in my head.

You know he's going to drive like a bat out of hell right? That shits for real, Meatloaf called it ages ago.

Ya'll pray for me.

*1 Peter 5:8


End file.
